


A White Elephant and a Sparkly Headband

by Flanemoji



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Christmas Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris Live, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, F/M, Gay Disaster Eddie Kaspbrak, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, Minor Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak, Rated T for Trashmouth, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, patty uris is an honorary loser, rated for language, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21987376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flanemoji/pseuds/Flanemoji
Summary: Eddie is shifting restlessly on the porch, a nicely wrapped present in one hand, a bag of booze and snacks in the other, and an overnight bag thrown over his shoulder. He managed to ring the doorbell without dropping anything three minutes ago (an amazing feat, if you ask him) and is about to try knocking on the door with his elbow when it flies open, a rush of warm air and soft music blowing into his face. Eddie opens his mouth to offer a happy holiday, but chokes on a laugh, his chest squeezing fondly at the stupidly dressed person waiting there.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	A White Elephant and a Sparkly Headband

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays fellow Losers!!! I ran a poll on my twitter asking if my followers wanted to see holiday art or holiday writing, and basically the vote came up even, so I did BOTH! You'll find a little extra gift at the end of my fic ;)
> 
> I wanted to give you all a little holiday treat (especially to hold you over for the next chapter of my fic) and wish you all a happy holiday season! I hope however you're spending it you feel loved and happy, and if you're struggling, just remember there's found family out there waiting to be found by you some day! 
> 
> 💕💕💕 Much love and cheer, Ash !!! 💕💕💕💕

Beverly  _ insisted _ it be a themed affair.

A pajama themed one, to be specific, which is what’s landed Eddie on the Uris’ doorstep in cozy, matching flannel and slippers with a coat thrown over (not for the cold, mind you— he’s a New Yorker—but to hide the fact that he’s out and about in PJ’s) feeling stupidly nervous and self conscious. 

The Losers had decided that after  _ everything _ , they needed to spend more time together. Losing twenty seven years of friendship, love, and practically family really traumatizes a bunch of already traumatized assholes, apparently. So come holiday time, planning had begun for a Losers Club reunion, considering most of their blood relatives were dead or shitty (or both, in Eddie’s case.)

Stanley offered his home in Atlanta, with the bullet points that he and Patty a) didn’t celebrate Christmas time anyway, so no one would be over, and b) were the only people with a house and not some “lonely bachelor apartment.” It was agreed that they’d meet up on Christmas Eve and stay through the first to ring in the New Year together. They’d gotten hotel rooms (at the same hotel of course) from the 26th onwards, planning a Very Adult sleepover for Christmas Eve and day. In lieu of fancy presents that required a lot of thought, Richie had suggested they do White Elephant, which he explained meant “you get a shitty, but funny, gift, Eds!” and everyone had agreed to it, since it was easier than a Secret Santa or trying to buy seven gifts each. 

So now Eddie is shifting restlessly on the porch, a nicely wrapped present in one hand, a bag of booze and snacks in the other, and an overnight bag thrown over his shoulder. He managed to ring the doorbell without dropping anything three minutes ago (an amazing feat, if you ask him) and is about to try knocking on the door with his elbow when it flies open, a rush of warm air and soft music blowing into his face. Eddie opens his mouth to offer a happy holiday, but chokes on a laugh, his chest squeezing fondly at the stupidly dressed person waiting there.

Bill is standing in the open entryway, wearing green and gold striped pyjamas with a matching night cap. He’s got a navy blue robe over it, tied nicely at the waist, and in his hand he’s holding what may or may not be a fake smoking pipe. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie can hear the laugh in his own voice and lets out a chuckle at the way Bill lifts his eyebrows. “What the  _ hell  _ are you wearing, Bill?” 

The party in question laughs and shrugs. “My best set of PJ’s of course.” Bill shoves the door open wider and pulls Eddie into a tight hug, pressing a warm kiss to his cheek. Christmas miracle number two occurs, with nothing in his arms falling or getting crumpled, as Bill throws an arm around his shoulders and drags him into the house. “I’m glad you’re finally here, Eddie. I was so bored being the only single and newly divorced Loser here.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, glancing to his side. “Oh,  _ please _ . Like you didn’t throw yourself at Mike the second your papers were finalized.” Bill is smiling wide when he answers, cheeks rosy and eyes dreamy. 

“And he was waiting with open arms.” He shoves the pipe between his teeth, grabs the bag of food from Eddie, and heads towards what must be the kitchen. Eddie is about to follow when he feels arms around his shoulders and another kiss to his face, closer to his jaw now. 

“Eddie, honey! I’m so happy you’re finally here!” Beverly must be on her tiptoes to be able to rest her chin where it is on Eddie’s shoulder. He tilts his head back to rest on hers for a moment, before he wiggles out of her embrace to properly face her. 

“Hey Bev, I’m happy to see you, too.” She’s dressed in a soft, Santa-themed, sleep outfit, a long sleeve t-shirt with a fake little belt around the middle. The pants are red, and have a cute little white trimmed skirt that hangs over it. Ben walks over towards them, wearing a matching outfit, minus the skirt, and a fluffy Santa hat in his head. They exchange hugs, and Eddie feels like he could hug Ben for  _ days _ ; he’s always been such a good hugger. 

Patty comes over and gives Eddie a kiss on the cheek, offering to take his overnight bag to the guest room where everyone’s left their things. Eddie compliments her on her outfit choice, a knit sweater with a light up menorah that says “Get Lit.” She laughs and admits to how excited she was to wear something fun for the holidays and to have company, and Eddie thinks once again just how perfect she is for Stan, all soft smiles and big hearts. 

She shuffles Eddie into the main room, where all the furniture has been pushed aside to make room for the Losers to sit on cushions and blankets. The Uris’ have set up the cutest little tree in the middle, probably half Eddie’s size, with twinkling lights and silver ornaments. Various gifts are tucked under, so Eddie drops his there. It’s the perfect opportunity for Mike to come over and gather Eddie up into an embrace that topples them both backwards into a mess of cushions on the floor. Stan reaches over to clap Eddie on the shoulder and Bill settles in on Mikes right side. Eddie worms his way out of the hug, flopping over to the left into the bit of space between Mike and the tree. He settles there comfortably, taking the warm mug Patty offers him and loving the cozy feeling of being with his closest friends, until he realizes they’re one short.

“Where the fuck is Richie?” Eddie peaks around the corner, wondering if maybe he’s in the bathroom or something, but it’s Bev who answers, sighing dramatically as she throws herself into Ben’s lap. He wraps his arms around her easily, grinning like there's no other Christmas gift he could get, and it makes Eddie feel like he should look away politely, cheeks warm.

“Late, of course!” Beverly tosses her phone off to the side, rolling her eyes. “ I even told him a time, like, an hour before we were actually supposed to meet up, so he thinks he’s two hours late and keeps sending me apologies while driving.”

“Tell him to pay attention to the fucking road, maybe.” Eddie responds, rolling his eyes and reaching for his own phone. He opens his texts with Richie to type a message out.

_ Stop texting and driving so you can get here alive, you dumbshit. _

“Serves him right to think he’s that late, though.” Stan pipes up from next to Bev, his arm around Patty. “He’s never been on time in his life. He was late to his own show the other day.” They all laugh and Eddie’s phone buzzes.

_ 4 u Eddie Spaghetti, anythin!!!!! _

There’s a disgusting amount of blushing and heart emojis, and Eddie refuses to think too hard about it. He decides not to answer, deeming that punishment enough for the lateness  _ and _ for possibly making him blush. He hasn’t seen Richie in months, the last time for a show he’d done for his new tour in New York. Eddie had still been in the middle of divorce lawyers and apartment shopping, stressed and anxious, so they really hadn’t spent much time together at all. They texted nearly every day and had weekly phone calls, but that didn’t seem to deter the butterflies in his stomach at seeing Richie again. Leave it to Trashmouth Tozier to still stir feelings in him even after twenty-seven years and multiple near death experiences. Eddie wants to smack himself sometimes for how stupid it all is.

Choking a leper? Fine, no problem.

Getting a divorce from his mother? Alright, can do.

Killing an alien killer clown, twice? Eddie Kaspbrak is your guy. 

Admitting to his best friend that he maybe, might be, definitely is, in love with him? No thank you, goodbye, goodnight, he’s got to go home  _ immediately. _

Eddie looks up to ask Stan how the show was, to change his focus of Richie from inward gay awakening to outward friend conversations, but stops short when he realizes what Stan is wearing. A stegosaurus with candles all along the back, which also light up like Patty’s.

“Is that… a dinosaur on your sweater, Stan?” 

Stan looks down, turns a little pink and smiles when Patty answers for him. “It’s a menorahsaurus!” 

Eddie bursts into giggles, nearly spilling his drink, and the other Losers join him in no time. Conversation is easy while they wait for Richie, discussing life after the Derry Incident. 

Beverly’s new fashion line is nearly done with production, and will drop in early spring of the new year. Ben gets excited telling them all about some new projects he has in the works, including some charity work for schools and foster homes. Stan and Patty talk about how annoying the adoption process is, but how they’re possibly in the running for an elementary-aged kid they’re going to meet after the holidays. Bill and Mike have a trip to the midwestern deserts planned for April, and have been house shopping for a place in Florida. 

Eddie feels his heart swell listening to them all plan their futures together, drinking his warm drink and happy to see them all happy. He tries to think about what he’s accomplished and feels like he comes up short. Since Derry, he hasn’t done much but separate himself from Myra and find a neat little bachelor pad in midtown Manhattan, close enough to walk to work and near a park where he can jog in the mornings. Compared to all his successful designer-writer-architect friends, it seems pretty lackluster. 

Eddie is saved from the inevitable  _ “and what about you, Eddie?”  _ by a knock on the door. Mike offers to answer it, and not five seconds later, they hear a loud yell and clattering. They all stumble to their feet and rush to the door, only to find a mess of bags in the entryway and Mike holding a grown man in some sort of onesie.

“ _ Mikeeeey! _ I missed you brother, look at you, strong and strapping as ever! Bill’s such a lucky man!” Richie kisses the top of Mike’s head, whos laughing and holding him like he weighs as much as a toddler. Richie hops down, spreads his arms wide, grinning. “Merry Christmas, gentiles! And a Happy Chaunakkuh to you, Stanny Boy and the missus.” 

Richie is dressed in a head-to-toe hooded onesie made to look like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He’s got winter boots on and the hood thrown up over his mess of curls. The hood has the little felt antlers and red-nosed face. He’s pale as ever with his own red nose and cheeks flushed from the cold, glasses fogged up and crooked.  Eddie thinks he’s the cutest goddamned thing he’s ever seen.

Fuck.

Richie says his greetings and hands off bags to Patty and Stan, who take his things to the guest room and kitchen. When he approaches Eddie, his eyes are bright. “My little Eddie Confetti! Gimme some sugar!” He opens his arms and Eddie puts his arm in front of him, hand on Richie’s chest to hold him back.

“You ass! For one, I’m not  _ little _ .  _ Two, _ confetti,  _ really?  _ And  _ three-- _ ” 

“Awe, Eds! I’m happy to see you, too!” Richie goes in for the kill, wrapping his arms as tight as they’ll go around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie groans but doesn’t fight it. Usually, this kind of embrace makes him squirm, feeling trapped and cornered and restricted. With Richie, though? It just feels safe and warm. Richie suddenly pulls back and holds Eddie by the shoulders at arms length before rushing over to his bag on the floor.

“Wait, wait! I have something!” He digs around and pulls out a headband with green wire on top. There’s a little flower at the end, and over the crown it says, in sparkly red letters: “ _ kiss me!” _

“No,  _ nope,  _ fuck  _ off!” _ Eddie backs away as Richie makes overly annoying smooch sounds at him, reaching out for another hug. Eddie presses his hands against his cheeks, pushing him back, holding back chuckles. “No get your Trashmouth  _ away _ from me, Richie, who knows where that filthy thing has been!”

“Awe, c’mon baby, I brushed my teeth just for you!”

“Go wash your mouth out with bleach and maybe we’ll talk.” Eddie  _ knows _ he’s blushing, and Richie relents, blushing and laughing all the same. Bev and Ben come over to give Richie a kiss on each cheek at the same time, which absolutely  _ delights _ Richie, and Eddie is saved from the embarrassment for the moment. 

Only a moment, though, because Bill is giving him a knowing look from over by the door, which Eddie matches with a frown and a middle finger.

After all the commotion, Patty ushers them all towards the living room again and they settle back into a circle to start the gift giving. Patty brings spiked hot chocolate and snacks, Richie demands he plays his terrible Christmas playlist on spotify, and Beverly has them all pick numbers out of a little bag for present-picking order.

Eddie has never played White Elephant, but the concept is simple: you bring a general, sort of silly gift, pick a number, and then pick a present. Richie had said sometimes, there are multiple rounds where you can do trades and steals, but that seemed complicated for their little group of eight, so they decided one round was more than enough.

Mike gets first pick, and the universe must really have an eye on them, because his pick is a book with a cover sleeve that reads:  _ How to Write Endings Better than Bill Denbrough. _

The room is silent for at least fifteen seconds before the entire group bursts out into raucous laughter. Bill looks terribly offended, taking the book from Mike, who is laughing so hard he’s nearly crying. The book sleeve is in fact, a fake, and the book is actually a very nice cookbook, which makes it even funnier. Stan admits that he  _ might  _ have used the fancy laminator at his job to make the fake cover, and Bill reaches over to punch him in the arm lightly.

It’s a good start, and everyone’s gifts are truly ridiculous. Bill picks a gift from Ben, which is a kitchen accessory set shaped like farm animals. Beverly get’s Richie’s gift, a desk sized version of a Bozo the Clown punching bag from the 60’s. Eddie gets a mug set with various mustaches on the rims, which, to Patty’s excitement, he  _ loves _ . Stan gets a floppy fishing hat that says  _ “No small talk allowed”  _ and socks that say “ _ ringmaster of the shitshow.” _ Ben gets three pairs of boxers with animal trunks on the crotch area, which makes him blush as red as he can go, getting even redder when Eddie admits it was his find. Beverly laughs so hard she snorts, then demands Ben share them with her to wear around the house. Patty gets two jigsaw puzzles of a cocktail and a pizza slice purchased by Bev, who tells her, “Now you can do a puzzle that doesn’t have a bird on it,” which causes Stan to flip her the bird, Patty to laugh beautifully, and Stan to look at her with tender fondness in her eyes, all in that order. Richie gets the last gift, a pipe that matches the one Bill has been using all night. Richie is very excited about it, until Bill shows him that the pipe is not for smoking, but for blowing bubbles, and that it also lights up, and then Richie is downright  _ ecstatic. _ He begins blowing bubbles immediately, making sure they all land in Eddie’s general vicinity. 

The night goes on in laughs and movies and classic eighties to nineties sing-a-longs. Patty makes more boozy hot chocolate, Mike starts cooking up snacks while Bill pretends to help, and Richie and Stan take stupid pictures holding the Uris’ menorah in front of the Christmas tree. They’re loud and silly and doing things probably inappropriate for a bunch of adults in their forties, but no one seems to give a shit. Eddie is enjoying himself on the sidelines, making faces for social media pictures and berating Richie for “live-tweeting” their Christmas exchange to his twitter following, when he gets a text message. 

He’d been ignoring his phone all night, too enraptured in it all to really care about whatever was being sent to him, Merry Christmas texts from coworkers and acquaintances. Now though, with the Losers snuggled up and talking quietly, he decides to look through it.

It was a bad decision.

There  _ are _ a lot of work-people text messages; dumb Holiday pictures and jokes, but the most recent text is a four pragraph message from Myra, wishing him a happy holiday with bitter undertones. Eddie sighs and steps outside onto the front porch, wanting to get away from the commotion to give her the proper attention.

Myra isn’t a  _ bad _ person, per se. She was overbearing and worrisome, anxious and sick like he was. She wanted to worry and he had let her, for all of their marriage. Then he goes on a mysterious trip to his hometown and comes back with a knife wound, a missing arm, and a gay awakening. He’d asked for a divorce while he was still recovering in Derry, trying to see Myra very little throughout the process until he realized he was just… avoiding confrontation, and it wasn’t fair to either of them. So he’d tried to gather up all his strength and picked up some things from his old home. He couldn’t blame Myra for being hurt or angry, because in her own strange way, she’d loved him, but it wasn’t healthy for either of them to keep living the lie they had been, and he cared enough about her to want her to be with someone who actually loved her the way a husband should love a wife. He made sure to tell her that, but hearts need to heal, so things had still been relatively rocky throughout the process. 

He’s in the middle of wording a holiday message back when the door opens. He looks up to find Richie, clad in his reindeer outfit and winter boots. Richie smiles and takes a seat next to him, keeping a respectful distance that drives Eddie crazy.

“Who’s on his phone too much now, huh Eds?” Richie pokes Eddie in the shoulder, leaning back against the porch bench while Eddie slightly ignores him. 

“It’s Myra, not my entire 13 year old fanbase.” Eddie waves his phone around a bit for emphasis, sighing at the way Richie says “ _ oh” _ and clears his throat. They sit in silence for a few minutes while Eddie finishes his message and presses send, shoving his phone into a pocket afterwards.

“How is uh… how’s she doing?” Eddie can tell Richie is just trying to be polite, and he appreciates it. 

“She’s fine, unhappy but fine. She’ll get over it, this was all for the better, in the end.” 

They sit in another uncomfortable silence for a few, watching cars pass on the street. Eddie scoots a bit closer to Richie when a chill blows towards them, unable to resist the way Richie radiates heat like a personal furnace. If Richie notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Eddie figures he’ll break the silence first. “How’s the tour going? How is the old fanbase taking the new, gay-and-improved Richie Tozier?” 

“Some of them feel offended that a queer is telling jokes and making money,” Richie chuckles, “but most of ‘em are supportive. I think they like the new material better, and the other day some fifteen year old sent me a message on my instagram saying I like… inspired them to come out or something.” Richie shrugs, but Eddie can hear the emotion in his voice, pride and awe and happiness. He loves it.

“Who wouldn’t like your new material? You write it yourself, so it’s actually sort of good.” Eddie says it as nonchalant as possible, even though he and Richie both know it’s not the truth. Eddie has already openly admitted he thinks Richie is  _ much _ more fun when doing his own material. Once again, Richie doesn’t comment. 

“Anyway, it’s nothing major. It’s not like I’m creating a whole fashion line, or traveling the country with my sexy occult-obsessed boyfriend or anything.” Richie slouches backwards even further, getting closer to Eddie in the process. He takes any opportunity he can get (for  _ warmth only, _ of course) and scoots a little closer. 

“What do you mean it’s ‘nothing major’ you dickhead? You’re literally a famous comedian! You just signed a Netflix deal and your next three shows are sold out.” Eddie frowns up at him, jabbing a finger into his side. “If anyone gets to say they’re doing nothing around here, it’s me.”

“What? Are you out of your mind, Eds?” Richie sounds offended, but Eddie shrugs his shoulders.

“I’m a disabled, newly-divorced gay man in his forties who lives in a loft in New York. It’s like… the plot of a movie about a deadbeat or something.” Eddie rubs at the joint of his prosthetic and his amputation while he talks, massaging out some of the soreness the cold brings.

Richie clears his throat again, looking like he wants to dispute what Eddie had said, but instead, he asks, “How’s physical therapy going?” 

Eddie shrugs again, lifting his hand up so Richie can see as he opens and closes it slowly. “It goes. This thing is really complicated to get used to, you know? Usually I just wear the one that has the hooks, but I didn’t want to sit through another fifty Captain Hook jokes.” Eddie quirks his lips, and he’s sure there must be fondness in his eyes, because Richie only laughs loudly while Eddie continues. ‘It’s fine, though, I guess. It’s been like… six months. I still have to get used to the fact that I wake up missing an arm.” 

Richie is quiet for some time, but it's a comfortable silence, this time. They admire the stars in the night sky and the way the street lights give everything a yellow, hazy glow. It takes a whole five minutes for Richie to speak up again. 

“I think you’ve accomplished the most out of all of us, Eds.” His voice is so soft. It makes Eddie turn his head to look at him, but Richie is fiddling with his hands in his lap. “You… you survived everything in Derry, which even the doctors said might not happen. You’ve been learning how to live without like… a fucking arm, and you got a divorce from your wife and moved out. You quit pills cold turkey and got a therapist...” Eddie thinks richie might be blushing in the darkness, but he can’t be sure. “You’re… awesome Eds. I don’t know anyone who just… loses their arm and then decides to stop ‘pez-popping’ percocet and oxy.” 

Richie uses air quotes around the words Eddie had thrown at him a few months back, when he admitted that he might have a problem with prescription drugs. He’d been so supportive throughout it all, too. Dealing with Eddie’s shitty moods, meeting him toe-to-toe when he was unwarrantedly rude. Richie stayed on the phone with Eddie into the early hours of the morning, when he couldn’t sleep because of the shakes and the cravings. Richie sent stupid, tacky motivational animal posters at random hours of the night and sent him links to support groups. Eddie thinks that might be when it really hit him how in love he was with Richie. 

He’s looking right back at him now, blue eyes shining through his frosty glasses. Eddie inches closer, heart tugging while Richie continues. “Seriously, Eddie… it's been six months and you’ve done so fucking much. Give yourself a little credit.” 

Eddie is the one who’s blushing now, and he can only hope the darkness and Richie’s blindness are protecting him from being caught. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, Rich.” He admits, wants to regret it for a split second until he sees the way Richie’s face lights up like a fucking Christmas Tree. 

“I...uh, I got you something. Like, something outside White Elephant.” Richie coughs a little, digs into his pockets for whatever he’s talking about. 

“That fucking thing has pockets?” Eddie focuses on that instead of the way his chest is stuttering against his ribs, then wants to smack himself because Richie smiles wide enough to show all his teeth. 

“Yeah! Isn’t it fucking awesome?” Richie doesn’t seem to actually expect an answer, because he hands over a blue velvet box about the size of his hand. Eddie just stares at him, then at the box, and back up at him. 

“I… didn’t get you anything Rich.” Eddie feels a pang of guilt; he should have gotten him something, after everything this stupid asshole has done for him. Richie shakes his head and scoffs, shoving his cupped hand a little further out towards him.

“Neither did I! Well, I mean-- I didn’t  _ mean _ to get you anything. I just, saw it, and thought of you, so I bought it, because someone said it would be a good idea to trust me with enough money to buy stupid shit whenever I want.”

Richie is still rambling about money and stupid shit when Eddie takes the box and opens it.

“I just--I saw it, and I said wow, Eddie would probably love and hate this. You’d love it ‘cause I know you’re a sap who likes it when people think about you, but I know you’d hate it, ‘cause, well…” Richie chuckles, and Eddie can hear how nervous he is. He’s too busy studying the gift to really properly answer, anyway.

Inside the box is a little silver charm of elbow macaroni. On the inner lid of the box reads an inscription:  _ You’re the ‘mac’ to my ‘cheese.’ _

Eddie looks up at him and Richie starts running his mouth again. “I-I thought it was funny! ‘Cause y’know, you’re Eddie Spaghetti, and you hate when I call you that, but I’m the only one who does! A-and I’m cheesy, ‘cause I tell bad jokes? Get it? Cheesy?” Richie is laughing through the nerves, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck and his cheeks as red as the nose on his hood. He’s  _ still _ talking, but Eddie can’t process whatever the fuck he’s saying.

He’s too focused on the fact that this stupid, idiotic,  _ adorable _ man really saw this dumbass macaroni charm at the store, and  _ thought of him _ . Thought of him enough to buy it for him, thought about it in the context of them  _ together _ as a duo. Eddie swears his heart is going to come right out of his throat and throw itself at Richie, demanding all the time and attention he can give. Eddie feels the words he wants to say heavy on his tongue, close and ready to spill out all over their feet and the front porch.

But no matter how hard he tries to say it, how clearly he can envision it in his mind’s eye, he can’t.

So Eddie goes for the next best thing. He pockets the gift and leans over while Richie continues to gab, pressing his cold lips to Richie’s warm cheek. Richie’s voice dies right in the middle of his sentence, and he’s stock still like it’s the first time he’s ever been kissed on the cheek before. Eddie holds his lips there for a moment, then another, pulls back with his face red and his pulse hammering.

“Thanks, Rich. You’re right, I fucking hate it, but it’s also really sweet.” Eddie feels some smug pride bloom in him at the way Richie stares at him, slack-jawed and pink, and thinks  _ ‘is that because of me?’ _ Eddie pats Richie on the knee before getting up, stretching his arms over his head while Richie continues to stare.

“Do you wanna head back in?” Eddie asks, looking down and offering his flesh hand to Richie. “It’s cold as balls out here.”

Richie just continues to stare for a few moments longer, then his face breaks out into a smile so dazzling it would make the moon and the sun jealous. He jumps to his feet and grabs Eddie by the wrist, leaning forward to press a kiss to Eddie’s own cheek. 

Richie agrees then about the cold, and starts to drag Eddie inside, but Eddie is more focused on the way warmth spreads and radiates all around him. From Richie’s hand on his arm and the tingling left behind on his cheek from the kiss, from the crackling fireplace in the Uris’ living room, and the way Bev and Bill flank Eddie to wrap their arms around him once they get inside. It’s so much warmth, so much love, an endless supply of it from the people who make up his family.

Richie and Eddie settle back into the living room, and every once in a while, Richie will shoot Eddie a dopey smile with twinkling eyes, and Eddie will have to look away and direct his attention to something less distracting. The Losers stay up well past their Adult Bedtimes, snuggling up into a pile on the floor to watch movies from their childhood. They fall asleep like that, in a big heap, surrounded by blankets and warmth and love, surrounded by family. 

It’s probably the best Christmas Eddie has had yet. 

**Author's Note:**

> 💕💕💕a reminder that I love you all and appreciate all the support and messages you send me 💕💕💕
> 
> look out for a part two of this baby for new year's eve 💕


End file.
